


Reactivity

by voksen



Series: WKverse [34]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Community: weissday, Episode Related, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-14
Updated: 2009-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:04:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voksen/pseuds/voksen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night after the Ouka incident, from Schuldig's POV</p><p>Weiss day '09, for schuldige_katze</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reactivity

The lights were on when Schuldig and Farfarello made it back home, even though it was late. It didn't necessarily mean anything - there were any number of things that might have made Crawford or Nagi get up besides waiting for them. A quick mental check confirmed that it was Crawford, and Schuldig sighed. Despite the events of the night, he didn't feel particularly apologetic; the fight with Weiss had been interesting enough on its own, but Ouka's death, accidental though it had been, and Bombay's resulting agony had left him on edge, hungry for more.

"He'll be unhappy," Farfarello observed quietly, shutting the door behind them.

"And whose fault is that?" Given how much he'd had fun, he couldn't find it in himself to be really angry with his teammate. Still, he'd dealt with Crawford in a bad mood before, and he could do it again... though it would probably be easier alone. "I'll tell him. You owe me for this, though."

Farfarello looked at him thoughtfully, then shrugged, turning to head down the stairs. "Fine."

 _You better stay out of his way for a while anyway,_ Schuldig sent after him, getting a silent acknowledging nod before Farfarello got out of sight around the corner of the stairs. He smirked, then; nothing like getting paid for something he would have had to do for free.

Following the light, Schuldig found Crawford sitting at his desk, writing in a notebook, with newspapers and graphs stacked around him. He paused in the doorway for a moment to enjoy the view - it wasn't exactly often that Crawford went around shirtless, after all. He'd probably just had a vision and gotten up to chart it out.

"Well, did you enjoy yourself?" Crawford closed his book and capped his pen after a few more lines, looking over at him.

Schuldig grinned widely. "When don't I?" Strolling over to the desk, he shoved a pile of papers out of his way and half-sat on it. "You should come along more often. I know you like the results, but the _doing_ is so much more fun."

Crawford tugged a piece of paper out from beneath Schuldig's leg, stacking it neatly to the side. "Maybe I should," he agreed, looking up at Schuldig with a mildly amused expression. "You look like the cat who got the cream. What happened?"

"Funny you should ask," Schuldig said, glancing down at the paper. Unable to decipher the chart, he looked back at Crawford. "Weiss bought the picture all right, but after they came out, there was a bit of an accident..."

To Crawford's credit, he didn't come out and _say_ 'I told you so', but the casual arch of his eyebrow was eloquent enough. "And?"

"And Takatori's kid bit it," Schuldig filled in, remembering the frantic screams echoing through the park, how he'd felt the Weiss kid's despair and pain halfway across the city. "In Bombay's arms."

"I'm sure he'll have something to say about that," Crawford said mildly, just the hint of a smirk hovering on his lips.

"You're taking this well." Shifting over a little, he stretched out, then rested his heels on the arm of Crawford's chair. "He liked her better than his other brats, you know. Doting all over her, wanting to meet her little boyfriend..."

"We can handle Takatori." Crawford leaned back in his chair, looking almost relaxed for once. "So all of Weiss were there?" At Schuldig's nod, he smiled faintly. "That should make it easier to set him on them. It should provide for some interesting family interactions..."

The easy way Crawford was handling the news made Schuldig almost feel bad about getting a favor out of Farfarello for it... but not quite. Casually, he let his feet slide off the armrest onto Crawford's lap. "But you weren't surprised. Did you foresee it and forget to tell me?"

Crawford laughed, a soft, mocking huff of a sound, and pushed Schuldig's feet back to the floor so he could stand. Reaching down, he ran the side of his thumb across Schuldig's lower lip, his glasses catching the fluorescent light and glinting sharply. "You have the same look you always do when you've just gone hunting," he said, his knuckles brushing across Schuldig's cheek in a strange caress. "Like the whole world isn't enough for you."

"Like _you_ can talk about that." Schuldig leaned into the touch, a broad smirk growing as he looked up at Crawford. "You're jealous, aren't you? You really did want to come along and watch." Amused by the almost imperceptible wince that provoked, he turned his head a bit, just enough to lick teasingly at Crawford's fingers. _I know you, too. You wanted to see how easy it was to make Persia's white hunters sit up and beg._

One finger slid into his mouth and he sucked on it obligingly, tongue curling suggestively around the tip, though his eyes still sparked with amusement and challenge.

"That's dogs, Schuldig," Crawford said, voice as smooth as ever despite Schuldig's efforts. "Not cats."

 _Same thing this time around._ Schuldig let Crawford's finger out of his mouth with a slight nip, his breath hot against the wet skin. "Just as easy to train."

Freed of Schuldig's mouth, Crawford's hand moved slowly down his neck. "Then why don't you tell me how to train a cat, since I missed out on all your fun?"

Schuldig grinned, then laughed as he was suddenly pulled off the desk and to his feet by the lapels of his jacket. "You saw some of it," he said, before he was interrupted by a kiss which he enthusiastically returned, pressing close to Crawford. _I had Nagi fake a picture of Bombay standing with Reiji, then send it to their computer while he was out, saying he was going to betray them..._

"Not terribly believable, after that mess Hirofumi made of things," Crawford observed, pulling back enough to speak, then brushing Schuldig's hair back and leaning down to kiss his throat, biting just hard enough to pull a gasp from him.

"Told you they were - ah - easy." Schuldig leaned closer, the tiny flash of pain from Crawford's teeth reminding him of Bombay's despair, Ouka's agony. "And I tracked down the girl, told her I had something to tell her about her boyfriend..." He trailed off teasingly, moving his hand up Crawford's side, skin to skin.

Crawford's lips twitched against Schuldig's neck as he held back a smile. "And then?" he asked, straightening again and beginning to undo the buttons of Schuldig's jacket.

That was something Schuldig couldn't really protest, even if the distance between them meant he couldn't get his hands on as much of him as he'd like. "I told her he was her brother. She really didn't want to believe that one..." When his jacket was unbuttoned, he shrugged out of it, tossing it over the nearby chair. "But she asked her mother." He laughed at that, his teeth flashing. "Her mother'd known all along and never told her."

Raising an eyebrow, Crawford started in on Schuldig's shirt buttons - one at a time, entirely too slowly. "Occasionally you surprise me with the details you work through."

"Flatterer," Schuldig grinned, pushing Crawford's hands away from his buttons so that he could undo them faster, tossing his shirt aside as well. "Want to make me a sure thing tonight, huh? Maybe you got up because you saw something _exciting_ and you don't wanna go without." He shoved teasingly at Crawford's mental shields as he spoke, not making a serious effort to get in - but not entirely gently, either.

He was interrupted by a harsh kiss, Crawford shoving him backwards and pinning him against the wall. All things considered, that was probably one of his favorite ways to be told to knock it off.

 _So I found her again and told her her brother was trying to kill her daddy._ His thoughts were rich with amusement, lust, any number of things. _You should have heard her then... and she came right along with me, walked right into my car._

 _Brilliance doesn't seem to run in that family._ Crawford kept the kiss going, his thigh sliding between Schuldig's, sending shivers through them both at the close contact. _What did you do to get Bombay to come out?_

Schuldig turned his face away to take a few quick gasps of air, his hips twitching forward against Crawford's leg. Fuck, that was good, but there was still too damn much clothing. "I took her phone," he said, voice coming out low and heated as he reached down between them to unbutton his pants, his eyes fixed on the other man's the whole time. "Called him up... told him Weiss was going to kill her if he didn't show up to save the day." Leaning up, he kissed him again, just as rough as the last, just as demanding.

Crawford's hands closed over his again, annoying him even though he'd expected it. _You've always got to do everything, don't you?_ he complained, _Serious control...ah..._ The insult died mid-thought as Crawford abruptly shoved his pants and underwear down around his hips with one hand, the other closing firmly around his cock and pumping once, twice, with deliberate slowness.

Never one to be outdone, Schuldig fished Crawford's dick out of his pants as well, then bit down hard on Crawford's lip in revenge for the interruption, nearly enough to draw blood. Even through his shields, he could feel the flash of pain and muted anger, sweetening the kiss more than actual blood would have. _No marks, I know, I know._ It was a crying fucking shame that they had to stay presentable, but that was one of the very few things that he'd given up arguing with Crawford on.

Despite Crawford's obvious irritation, he continued to stroke Schuldig, long, tight and slow. "So obviously he accepted your invitation," - between kisses that couldn't be called gentle, but stopped deliberately short of more pain.

"Yesss," Schuldig's breath hissed between his teeth as he was torn between the immediacy of Crawford's teasing and the lingering memory of his night's work. "And, mmmhh, when they all showed up armed, with the girl there... they believed it, all of it, for a second, _fuck._ " Crawford had sped his hand just as Schuldig had called that delicious moment to mind, making him thrust forward eagerly. As revenge, he pushed that memory past Crawford's shields - all of it: from his own delight at seeing his manipulations click into place, to the honey-sweet fear of betrayal from the four assassins, to Ouka's useless pleas for help.

For once there was no objection to that, no _Stay out of my mind, Schuldig_ ; maybe Crawford really _had_ wanted to see how it had worked out. Next time, maybe, he'd let him in on it. All work and no play...however that went. For now, he was too busy enjoying this, the way their bodies rocked and pressed together as each shoved into the other's hand, Crawford's arousal fueling his own.

"Just one more thing." After a few minutes, Crawford leaned close so that his mouth was just against Schuldig's ear, his voice rough, almost a growl - fuck, but Schuldig loved it when he finally lost that composure - "How did Ouka die?"

"I already told you, in Bombay's arms." Schuldig squirmed a little as Crawford's thumb swiped across the head of his cock. " _Shit, yeah--"_ He gasped, teeth clenching, as Crawford closed his hand tight around the base, squeezing, holding him back. "Fuck you, let me..." He kept his own hand moving, the second-hand pleasure better than nothing but not enough to push him over the edge, just enough to make him need it more.

"Tell me."

" _Fuck_ you." Schuldig did not do begging, even when he was this desperate, even to someone he knew as intimately as Crawford, but it was a close thing - and it got closer still as Crawford eased off the hold, gave him one more too-slow stroke, then stopped again.

"Who killed Ouka?" He did it again, torturously, deliberately.

Practically sobbing for breath, Schuldig turned his head away so he wouldn't have to listen so closely - and Crawford bit him without warning, hard, sinking his teeth deep into his shoulder where his clothes would cover the mark. "Far," he gasped, his entire body straining against the other man's, "Farfarello shot her, you _motherfucker_."

Relief came instantly, the hand on him loosening, then pumping fast, making him buck forwards helplessly, one hand digging deep into Crawford's shoulder, the other somehow still jerking him off. He lashed out with his mind, shoving his own pleasure at him, unwilling even while he could hardly think to let Crawford completely get the best of him.

He was rewarded with a soft, strangled noise that Crawford had obviously tried to hold back and failed - and a new burst of pleasure that made him twitch hard, spent though he was, as Crawford thrust into his hand, his come joining Schuldig's across their stomachs.

They stood in silence for a few seconds, minds clouded, before Crawford pulled away abruptly and readjusted his pants, taking a tissue off his desk and wiping himself clean, his shields firmly back in place. "You know I don't like it when you do that," he said, glancing at Schuldig and offering him the box of tissues with distaste. "Clean up and go to bed. We'll be leaving in a few hours."

 _Not what it felt like to me,_ Schuldig smirked mentally, feeling too comfortably lazy to bother opening his mouth to talk. He took a few tissues as the box was shoved at him, though - no point in ruining his clothes, and he wasn't about to walk the halls naked. _You deserved it anyway, bastard._

Putting his clothes back on, he made his way out, ignoring Crawford's parting shot: "If you'd told me when I asked, it wouldn't have been an issue."

  
Nagi gave him an extremely nasty look when he walked into the kitchen the next morning, enough to make Schuldig pause briefly. "What happened to you?" Shrugging it off, he stole a bit of pickled something-or-other from his teammate's plate.

"Some of us like to sleep at night," Nagi informed him. "And get your own breakfast."

"Oops?" he offered, not a hint of apology in his voice, and reached for the food again, only to be stopped by a telekinetic barrier halfway there. "Don't be so selfish."

Nagi ate the last of the pickles one at a time, glaring at him. "No one likes a hypocrite."

"I'm a completely likeable guy," Schuldig smirked, glancing behind himself as Crawford came into the room. "Hey, Crawford, what do you think?"

Crawford put his empty plate in the sink, then turned back to the two of them. "I think we're leaving now," he said, and before Schuldig could protest, "And you can eat after we're done with Takatori."

"You know I don't like it when you do that." Schuldig smirked, more at Nagi than at Crawford.

Rolling his eyes, Nagi pushed his half-full plate telekinetically to join Crawford's, then led them out of the room.

The drive to Takatori's office was short and rather uneventful; Nagi was still all too obviously annoyed with the world in general and Schuldig in particular, Crawford seemed a bit preoccupied, Farfarello, simply not in a talkative mood.

 _So he'll be mad, hmm?_ As they started up in the elevator, Schuldig could already hear Takatori raging above them, the man's mind almost incoherent with anger and pain, sweet as honey.

Crawford didn't even bother to look over at him. _Yes._

 _Obviously_ , put in Nagi.

Schuldig sighed. _Rhetorical question._ At least Farfarello had only grinned.

The doors opened onto the large private office and the four of them stepped out. Takatori stopped mid-stride in front of his desk, spinning to face them, and jabbed his finger at Farfarello and Schuldig. "You two, over there!" he growled, pointing at the window.

With a glance at Crawford, who nodded almost imperceptibly, they did as ordered, Schuldig taking the opportunity to glance out at the great view of the still-dark city. They had a long way to go before --

"How could you let this happen?!" Takatori was still furious, all right, and definitely at the two of them. Maybe Ouka had told him that Schuldig had talked to her... that would be awkward. Schuldig reached out idly into his mind to find out, but before he could dig it up, Takatori cast around, grabbed a golf club for his desk, and swung it full force at Farfarello's head.

Farfarello didn't bother to dodge, simply dropping to his knees with the force of it. Completely surprised, Schuldig was a second too slow to get out of the way when it smashed into his cheek a split second later, sending him to the ground and filling his mouth with blood. He had the presence of mind not to spit it out onto the expensive carpet, but just barely.

 _Don't move,_ Crawford ordered sharply, and Schuldig glanced up at him incredulously.

The golf club slammed down again, inches from Schuldig's face. "Why did you kill Ouka?!" Takatori demanded, shaking with rage. "Ouka was more precious than anything, she was my cherished jewel! You damn fools!"

 _This is ridiculous,_ Farfarello thought, his lip curling in annoyance as Takatori raised his club and hit them again, bouncing it between their heads.

That was easy enough for Farfarello to say - for an old man, Takatori had a good arm and it hurt like fuck, not to mention how much the insult stung. _Stop him already,_ he snarled mentally, _if you still need him._

 _I told you to stay still._ Crawford's mental voice had a serious overtone of command that he almost never used with Schwarz, and it was just enough to stop Schuldig from reaching for his gun. As Takatori started to swing yet again, Crawford stepped up and grabbed his arm, holding it steady. "Mr. Takatori," he said smoothly, sounding for all the world as if he didn't mind what the man had just been doing, "You are resenting the wrong people."

Takatori shifted his glare to Crawford, who remained impassive. "What?" he demanded, his grip on the club still firm.

"We did not kill your precious daughter," Crawford continued, holding Takatori's gaze easily.

Schuldig was starting to ache where the club had hit him, across his cheekbone and at his temple. _He definitely got tipped off somewhere_. Exactly where, though, he'd built up a hell of a block around for a non-Talent, and being knocked repeatedly in the head wasn't exactly conducive to doing delicate work.

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Crawford!"

Crawford shook his head, still holding Takatori back. "Everything is Weiss's fault. If you must hate, then hate Weiss." _Schuldig._

Knowing an order when he heard one, Schuldig obeyed, shoving Takatori mentally towards making the right decision, no matter how much he'd rather have been shoving him out the window.

"Weiss, you say?" the old man muttered, his will wavering as Schuldig pushed harder at his mind.

Nagi was smirking, the little fuck. "They're strong," he put in, staring maliciously at Takatori's back.

"...Weiss!" Takatori snarled again, letting go of the club and storming to his desk again. "Get out," he added, mostly as an afterthought. "Now! But stay where I can get to you."

Minding the cameras, Schuldig was silent, managing to keep his face empty of all but the barest hint of the anger and offense he felt. _You knew that was coming,_ he sent privately to Crawford as they went back down the elevator. _You fucking knew it._

_Yes._

Schuldig raised his hand to gingerly touch the large bruise across his cheekbone, checking to see if the skin was split, and had to force himself not to turn furiously on Crawford when he realized that it was just how Crawford had touched him the night before - why he hadn't been angry that Ouka had died. _You knew before this morning._

 _Yes._ The elevator doors opened onto the middle floor of the Takatori building and Crawford walked out calmly, the others following him towards their lounge.

Once he was inside, Schuldig went to the small refrigerator and pulled out a handful of ice, wrapping it in his bandanna and holding it to his cheek to check the swelling. _You going to fucking tell me why you didn't mention it earlier?_ he demanded, turning from the bar area to glare at Crawford, who was looking out the window at the dawn breaking over the city. Behind him, Nagi handed a few plasters to Farfarello, who _was_ bleeding slightly from one of his bruises.

_It was neces--_

" _Fuck_ that," Schuldig said loudly, startling Nagi and making Farfarello crane his head around to look at him curiously. "I'm fucking sick of 'It was necessary', Crawford. Give me a straight fucking answer over this, or..."

"Or what?" Crawford turned from the window to face him, crossing his arms.

Schuldig had no ready answer for that, no ultimatums he was prepared to give and really follow through with, but silence was submission. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded again.

Crawford sighed quietly. "Because it was... important... that you took certain actions that required you to be unaware of the consequences," he said after a moment's thought.

"I could have acted," Schuldig snarled.

"It wouldn't have been the same," Farfarello put in as he finished bandaging himself and drew his knife instead.

Schuldig felt like throwing something at him, but thought better of it, turning his back to stare out the window. "Bullshit." _I'm fucking sick of flying blind, Crawford,_ he sent.

_After the next major fork I will be able to tell you more._

He looked over as the television flicked on behind him. Crawford had gone back to looking out the window; Nagi was watching the news; Farfarello seemed absorbed in cutting some sort of design into the bandages around his wrist. _Let me guess... no chance for me of knowing when that will be._

Crawford glanced at him, meeting his eyes, then turned back to the rising sun. _Soon._

_How soon?_

_Soon enough._   



End file.
